


The Drive Home

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Impala, M/M, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:29:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas talking like grown-ups...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drive Home

“Last one resurrected gets shotgun,” Dean declared, pulling the door open and ushering Cas in. He had actually raced Sam to the passenger side of the car, slipping his hand around the handle just at the last second. 

Sam rewarded him with a strange look. Dean just beamed. He’d been wearing his emotions on his face so visibly since their reunion, and almost every one was positive: content, happy, thrilled, awed. Cas was grateful, of course, but doubly so when he considered how much he couldn’t see, now that he was human. For the most part, Dean was still an open book, but Sam suddenly appeared to him inscrutable. Not just unreadable; almost obfuscated. Squint though he might, Cas couldn’t decipher Sam’s face at all.

The Impala rumbled to life. The boys made small talk. Sam slumped against the window, and as Dean merged onto the highway, he observed that his brother had fallen asleep.

“How is he these days?” Cas asked, concerned.

“He’s, uh, well, you can see, he’s much better. Really hoping he’s healed up soon. I’ll sleep better when it’s just him in there,” Dean babbled. 

Cas caught at something strange in Dean’s choice of words, but said nothing. He resisted glancing to the backseat, but not a peek at Dean. Was that a faint blush of regret? A scowl for saying… what, exactly? No, Cas would say nothing, not react, for the moment, but he resolved to investigate further. What would be in Sam, healing him up?

“Did you hear me? Are you hungry?”

Cas shook his head and fudged an apology to cover his curiosity. Softer, “I forgot that you can’t hear me anymore.” It was true, and it was a real concern; it also happened to be a non sequitur to change a potentially unsafe subject. What is in Sam? “I keep thinking that something is missing, and then I realize that I can’t hear your voice.”

“I know. Me too,” Dean sighed. His fingers found Cas’ across the bench seat, surreptitiously, without discussion. A moment of silence passed before the smile rebounded to Dean’s face. “But, I bet I can guess what you’re thinking about right now.” 

Cas smirked. “That's doubtful. But go ahead.” 

“You’re thinking how good it will be to get back to the bunker. To pick out your room and drop your stuff on a bed of your very own, and-”

“Or not.” A very different smirk now crossed Cas’ face, as he pulled Dean’s hand into his.

Dean laughed, a nervous little thing. “But Cas, it’ll be good for you to have a place to put your stuff.”

“I have no stuff. Everything I have is here,” he remarked, pointedly eyeing Dean’s hand resting atop his. “I’m sorry, I interrupted you,” he went on. “You were guessing what I’m thinking?”

“Um, yeah. Where was I?”

“I was thinking about throwing my belongings on my bed.”

“Huh.” Dean squirmed.

Cas could see Dean’s brain disengage for a moment, and it drew a short chuckle from him. 

“Okay, uh, well, before thirty seconds ago…” He paused, smiled to himself. “So after you throw your belongings on the, uh, on your bed, you’re gonna want a long, hot shower.”

“Yes. That’s probably true.”

“You’re gonna go down to the kitchen and gorge yourself on burritos.”

“I do enjoy a good burrito,” Cas replied, pleased. 

“What?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You disappear into the wilderness by yourself and eat your first burrito without me?”

Cas looked puzzled. “I’ve eaten burritos before, Dean. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve made me taste a hundred different burritos.”

“Well, that’s different. I didn’t think you appreciated them when you were…”

“I appreciated them. And the spirit in which they were offered. But Dean, I didn’t need to eat, and I certainly never wanted to steal food from your mouth just for-.”

“Cas, you know me,” he sighed. “I like feeding people up. It’s kinda my thing.”

“I know. The popcorn, the burgers; I understand. And I let you. You feeding me. It was always so… intimate.” A silence fell. “And after I eat?”

“Hmm. You’re thinking you’ll eat until you forget what it feels like to go hungry.” Dean frowned momentarily; when the sun came back out, he added, “And when your belly is good and full, you’ll go up to your room and slide your feath-” He frowned again. “Your, uh, perky ass-”

“Perky?”

“Uh… Shut up.” Dean licked parched lips. “You’ll slide between warm, soft sheets and snuggle down under a thick comforter and sleep for a week.”

Cas seemed a bit concerned. “I don’t think I would want to sleep for a whole week, Dean. I’d have to-”

“Figure of speech, Cas.” 

They drove in silence for some time, Cas absentmindedly stroking the fingers woven through his. 

“So uh, do you want to tell me what happened?” Dean asked, suddenly withdrawing his hand. 

Cas looked stricken for a moment. “What _what_ happened?”

Dean shrugged. “Just, since I saw you last. Being human. Whatever.”

“Ah.” Cas’ shoulders relaxed even as his brow wrinkled. “There’s so much. And yet so little, so much of the same thing over and over again.”

“How do you mean?”

“Eating, sleeping, breathing… everything. Multiple times a day. And then doing it all over again tomorrow.”

“Huh. I never thought of it that way. Although one time, when I was really little, I was brushing my teeth, and I had this moment of terror, thinking of how many more times I’d have to do it, twice a day, every day, until I died. And when you’re a kid, you think you’ll live forever. Of course, that was before… before Mom… well, I’m lucky I’ve had to brush my teeth this long.”

Cas sagged a bit. What a miserable existence he’d been thrown into. “Naomi was right, you know. And Metatron killed her. Tortured her as she had tortured so many.”

Dean shook his head. “I have nothing nice to say about that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to feel, either.” He shrugged. “He strapped me down, stole my grace. I fell. Woke up in the woods. I stood for hours watching the angelfall, horrified. How could I do this? How could I let it happen again? Why must I be the cause of so much pain?” He paused to swipe at his eyes. “Fortunately, I didn’t yet realize that I was… that I was human. If I’d known, I would have… I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Hey, hey, we talked about this. No more of this suicide business. Okay? Please?”

Cas nodded. “Easier said than done. I know you don’t bat an eye at killing monsters; neither do I. Yet I’ve seen how you react to killing your own species. And I, I have utterly destroyed mine.”

Dean cleared his throat and cast about for another topic. “If you don’t mind me asking, uh, what happened to your old get-up? The coat?”

“Oh. It, uh, it got, um, bloodied. I started to wash it, but my stomach was empty and my mouth was dry, and in the end, I couldn’t justify keeping it. It was a target on my back; these clothes are better camouflage.”

“Good thinking.” Then his brain caught up. “‘Bloodied?’ What did you do?”

Cas shifted. “Hael. The angel I told you about, the one I wanted to help. She, uh, she wanted to possess me. She’s dead now.”

“Cas,” Dean breathed. “Talk first, stab later.” 

“Dean, I’m human now! They’re stronger than I am! Sometimes the only way to stop them is to kill them; you know that.” He shook his head, somewhere between angry and disappointed. “It was self-defense.” He paused. “Maybe. I talked, she abducted me, I crashed the vehicle.” He tugged on his seatbelt and grinned. “The things you learn from living with humans.” Cas sighed. “And even as she lay broken, I tried to talk. To reason with her. But she threatened me. Said she’d tell everyone where I was and what I’d done. And then I stabbed her. Another angel dead because of ignorant, arrogant Cas. How do we always end up here?”

“Because we live in a fucked-up world. You, me, Sammy. Everyone we care about ends up dead, and we keep fighting for every breath.”

“So how is it that we die and still keep living?”

The momentary look of terror on Dean’s face gave Cas pause. But he swallowed hard, plastered on a fake smile, and said, “I don’t know. Maybe somebody’s got work for us to do.”

He mulled Dean’s words. But who? God? _Hmph._ If God wasn’t dead, Cas was inclined to punch him in the face. _He built us to follow orders, then abandoned us to our own devices. At least the humans were designed to_ think _that they control their own destinies; they can act out their tiny machinations until time stands still. But we, his firstborn, are doomed to fail and bleed and die until not a one of us stands._

“Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

He shook his head once. “No, I was thinking about something you said. You called yourself Cas.” He glanced over, catching Cas bowing his head. “Not Castiel.”

“No,” he whispered, “not Castiel. Castiel is an angel of the Lord, a warrior and a leader, worthy of being called the Shield of God. I am no longer that creature. If indeed I ever was.” He laughed darkly. “I’m not sure what I am anymore. Either I am a destroyer, of God’s first and best creations. Or I am a soft-skinned pudgy human.” He chanced a glimpse of Dean, jaw set, hands tight on the wheel. “Given those options, I prefer to embrace the latter and go by the name given to me by humans.”

Dean looked, what? Hurt? “I’m sorry about the nickname.” Ah, penitent. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to insult-”

“No, I know. But the angels intimidate you. Removing the ‘of God’ from our names, however unconsciously done, brings us to your level.”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“You never think.” Cas winced; he feared that came out too harshly. “Call it a self-defense mechanism. To drag us off our clouds, as you’d say.”

Dean smiled shyly. “Yeah, it sounds like something I’d say.”

“Whatever the reason, I’ve heard my name in your mouth too many times to think of ‘Cas’ as anything but affectionate,” offering Dean a reassuring grin. He let his thoughts wander before continuing. “I don’t deserve to be an angel anymore.”

“Cas, being human is not meant to be a punishment.”

A frown darkened his features. “I spent the whole of human existence believing that I was better than you. That, though Father set you above us and charged us with your care, it was your fragile, childlike natures that necessitated guardianship. We were strong, wise, the shepherds of wayward and foolish flocks. But in this past week, I have run from my brothers and been the victim of their hired assassins, while humans aided me and showed me kindness. How can that be, if we are the nobler species?”

Dean gave no answer, so Cas pressed on. “I have nothing to offer anymore. I have no wings, no powers, no ‘mojo,’” he lamented, emphasizing the last word with air-quotes. “I don’t want to be a burden to you, Dean. Just another human to feed and clothe, and probably mourn too soon.”

“Cas.”

“But at least I can’t trouble my siblings with further misguided attempts to help. I’ll defend myself, for your sake, but I’ll perpetrate no more tragedies upon Heaven.”

“Is that what you want?” Dean asked softly. “Do you want to be human?”

“Dean, I don’t know! At this point, does it matter what I want?”

“Hell yes it matters, Cas. This is the most important- look, if you want to stay a human, that’s great, and I am going to support you 100%. And if you wanna try to reclaim your grace, then by all means, I will fight tooth and nail at your side.” 

“Dean.” Cas’ eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he turned towards Dean. He didn’t really expect to catch him in a joke, but he couldn’t quite believe his words alone. 

“This is your decision, your _species,_ Cas. Maybe you’re stuck being human. Maybe the only way to send the angels back to Heaven is to shove your grace back in, like it or not. But if it’s your decision to make, well then it’s your decision.”

“I’m afraid I’ll choose wrong. That I’ll choose for the wrong reasons.”

Dean shook his head. “I won’t influence you. This is important. This is about being comfortable in your own skin. This, this moment right here, is where you choose not to make yourself a monster. Trying to fit into someone else’s mold? It can’t be done.” Dean gripped Cas’s hand. Firm, steady. “I’ve been there, Cas. You know what I was when you met me. I was a mess. I was a danger to everyone and everything, especially myself; I didn’t know up from down and right from wrong. All I knew was swagger and bullshit, and wiping every two-bit creature-feature scumbag off the face of the Earth.”

“That is true. You tried to kill me many times. A few times, I deserved it.”

“But you don’t have to think like that anymore. You can be what you need to be, what you are. You tell me who you are and we’ll make it work. Promise. You saved me. It’s time I returned the favor, dammit.” 

“Dean,” he murmured gratefully.

He smiled broadly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cas.”

A small smirk crept onto Cas’ face as he replied, “I know.”

That should have been the end, but Dean did a double-take. “Wait, did you just-”

Cas adopted a wide-eyed expression of innocence and looked pointedly away from the declarations that hung in the air between them.


End file.
